t was no dream. The sun had set, the candles were lit. Harry was
sleeping by her side, and George, her husband, was holding her in his
arms.

CHAPTER IX

UNCLE TOM'S NEW HOME

Uncle Tom soon settled down in his new home. He was as happy as he could
be, so far away from his wife and dear little children. He had a kind
master.

Mrs. St. Clare, however, was not nearly so nice as her husband. She was
cruel, and would often have beaten her poor slaves, but Mr. St. Clare
would not allow it.

She always pretended that she was very ill, and spent most of her time
lying on a sofa, or driving about in her comfortable carriage.

Mrs. St. Clare said she really was too ill to look after the house, so
everything was left to the slaves. Soon things began to be very
uncomfortable, and even good-natured Mr. St. Clare could stand it no
longer.

He went to his cousin, Miss Ophelia St. Clare, and begged her to come
and keep house for him, and to look after Eva. It was on the journey
back with her that the accident to Eva happened, which ended in his
buying Tom.

Miss Ophelia was a very prim and precise person, not at all like the
St. Clares. In her home people did not have slaves. Though her cousin
had a great many, and was kind to them, she could not help seeing that
it was a very wicked thing to buy and sell men and women as if they were
cattle. She was very, very sorry for the poor slaves, and would have
liked to free them all. Yet she did not love them. She could not bear
even to have them near her, nor to touch them, just because they were
black.

[Illustration]

It made her quite ill to see Eva kissing and hugging the black slave
women when she came home.

'Well, I couldn't do that,' she said.

'Why not?' said Mr. St. Clare, who was looking on.

'Well, I want to be kind to every one. I wouldn't have anybody hurt.
But, as to kissing niggers--' she gave a little shudder. 'How can she?'

Presently a gay laugh sounded from the court. Mr. St. Clare stepped out
to see what was happening.

'What is it?' said Miss Ophelia, following him.

There sat Tom on a little mossy seat in the court. Every one of his
buttonholes was stuck full of flowers. Eva, laughing gaily, was hanging
a wreath of roses round his neck. Then, still laughing, she perched on
his knee like a little sparrow.

'Oh, Tom, you look so funny!'

Tom had a sober smile on his face. He seemed in his own quiet way to be
enjoying the fun quite as m